


Overwatch Drabbles and One Shots

by PorcelainFeathers



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Drabble Collection, F/F, F/M, Fluff, M/M, One Shot Collection, Possible smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 20:22:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20802413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PorcelainFeathers/pseuds/PorcelainFeathers
Summary: Big ol' collection of drabbles and one shots I've done! Requests were either taken from discord or tumblr.





	Overwatch Drabbles and One Shots

**Author's Note:**

> Jesse and Angela enjoy a peaceful ride back to base after some chaos.

Disorganized. Yes, that was the best way his muddled mind could think to make some sense of things. The semi-soothing weight of his gun in his hand, then soft hands. On his, on his wrist, sliding up his arm, gone. The sounds of explosions, bullets on metal, on dirt, the whirring of their evac ship. That was an emergency only call, so who made it? Who needed it? It shouldn’t be here. 

It was so much louder suddenly, and above it, there were more things for him to process. He was so used to the scent of smoke and dust, but here was filled with ozone and sweet vanilla and jasmine and other floral niceties. In one breath, lavender filled his lungs at the same time those soft hands returned. This time along his jaw, over his cheek, across his forehead. It repeated as a second came to his chest, a gentle sigh followed the action and Jesse registered the sweet breath that washed over his face. It was this of all things that brought to his attention just how dark it was. Perhaps it was simply that he was unable to actually see who it was that cradled him so.

So bright was it when he opened his eyes, and in his hazy vision the gunslinger would’ve have wagered everything he owned that he died and was being escorted off. Irony to make him comfortable now. He pondered briefly what it had been that had struck the killed blow for him.

That thought faded just as quickly as it had appeared though; he was alive. Even blurred, he knew those colors too well. “Jesse?” The gentle and cautionary question served perfectly as confirmation for whom he was with, and a toothy grin spread over his bleary countenance. “Hey, Angel.” Always Angel. Always Angie, or Ange, or even Blondie, but never Angela. Jesse could feel another sigh sweep over his face and allowed his eyes to slip shut a moment longer, planning to test his vision again.

“W’ happened?” The first half of his question mostly died on his lips, though not enough to obscure the meaning of his question. 

“There were more operatives than expected. You were shot, my staff was lost. Once things were under control, I evacuated with you.” Angela explained slowly, a hand sweeping some hair from his face, and carding through the rest in one smooth motion. It was Jesse’s turn to sigh, soft and tired.

Time passed by, a moment or ten, Jesse knew not, before he chanced opening his eyes once more. He had more success this time, actually able to make out Angela’s gentle, tired features, and those clear blue eyes set in them. He always admired how they seemed to shift with the seasons. Winter was cornflower, Spring was gray, Summer was gunmetal or sometimes ice, and Fall was:

“Desert sky.” Jesse murmured, those oceans flicking down towards him in response.

“What?”

He smiled again and felt it. He couldn’t feel his wounds, but he could feel the weight of them. They bore down, already begging his eyes to close once more. Perhaps he had fallen asleep for a short while before. Perhaps he should and would again, but not just yet.

“Your eyes.” Jesse answered with certainty. Much to his joy, light laughter hovered above the whirring engine and Angela smiled in turn.

“It’s good to see you’re feeling well enough to flirt. My mother always told me to stay away from men like you.” Angela teased, her hand raising and Jesse didn’t even realize it as he leaned into her touch this time. 

“Like me?”

“Silver-tongued charmers.” It prompted a low, rumbling chuckle from the cowboy and a barely there motion that could be interpreted as a nod accompanied it.

“She was damn right.”

Conversational silence swept through the ship afterwards, and Jesse sure that that state was the most comfortable he had ever been. It was almost enough to make him laugh. There he lay, head in his doctor’s lap, bloodied from who knew how many wounds, stretched out across a few seats of a transport ship and this is what was deemed paradise. He knew it was more so the company than anything else, but he still couldn’t complain.

A slight yawn came, followed by one last question to grace the ship’s walls: “How long ‘til we’re at base?”

“Another hour or so.”

Perfect. He could rest a while longer, Angela could get at least a little break, and then things would be right back to normal. All he had to do was enjoy the rest of the ride.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! The updates will be weekly for as long as I can manage to keep them that way!


End file.
